I started this blog in 2009 to document what I ate, what I read, and how much I ran leading up to the NYC marathon. While I did manage to drag myself over the finish line, I have since decided I am not a marathon runner. I have also decided that while running, food, and reading are no longer the centre of my life, they remain an integral part of helping me centre and appreciate my life. They help me realize that it's not that serious...

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Thursday, January 23, 2014

Cayla Day Weekend

The first summer we were dating, my (future) husband and I went to France for two weeks. Halfway through our our trip, in the town of Arles*, he informed me that since we were still getting to know each other, he felt it was important I know that sometimes he just really needs to be alone. And now was one of those times. I guess the expression on my face revealed how this news made me feel so he quickly explained that it had nothing to do with me, that I hadn't done anything to upset him. He just simply wanted to be alone. He suggested that we take the afternoon "off" from each other and explore the town. In his mind, it was perfect. He could take as much time exploring the junk shops he loves and I could take as much time as I want exploring all the clothing stores I love.**

After lots of reassurance that he hadn't dragged me to the Centre of a tiny French town just to break up with me, I relented and we parted ways.

Or so I thought.

Almost immediately l got that tingle up my spine that someone was following me. I looked around and...nothing. But the feeling didn't go away. And apparently neither had my boyfriend. He had been on my tail for almost the entire time-about a 20 minutes.

At this point, you're probably thinking that this guy is nuts. Before you do, please reserve judgementand read on.

Obviously, I asked what he was doing. Why was he following me when he made it very clear that he wanted time off? He explained that he wanted to know what I was like when he wasn't around. He wanted to get to know the real me.

Ok so is that not the most romantic thing ever? I fell in love even more.

And then we parted ways for the afternoon. For real.

I learned two things that day:
1. My boyfriend was best person ever.
2. Alone time is awesome.

That is why I am writing this post while aboard a flight to Florida. Alone.

At customs this morning, the officer asked me who I was traveling with.

"No one"

"Are you meeting someone down there?"

"No"

"Is someone flying down to meet you?"

"No. It's just me." He looked at me weird so I went onto explain. "I am
going to Florida for three days to do work: to write report cards."

For the most part, that statement is true. Instead of my usual insistence to my family that I am too busy to make dinner/drive to drum lessons/do anything remotely fun on the weekend and then staying up 'till 1 am for a week while writing reports, I decided to cash in some alone time Bitcoins and get 'er done in one intensive blitz. I did the same thing last year and it was probably one is the best moves I've made in my 10-year career as a teacher.

But...

It's not the only reason I need this alone time. I love my husband and kids more than I thought was humanly possible but sometimes, I just really need some space. I need time to walk on the beach for hours and not have to worry that my kids are at home waiting for me to take them somewhere. I need to be able to watch hours of cooking and food related shows without someone asking me how I can watch hours of cooking and food shows. I need time to just sit and read and really get into a book without being interrupted every 15 minutes. How am I ever supposed to finish my 52-book challenge if I can barely get through one book a month?!

I just want three days where I don't have to talk to a single other person other than "Do you have these in a size 7 1/2?" I want three days where I don't wear make up and let my
Jew-'fro do its thing because I won't be seeing a single person I know. I want three days where I'm not needed to be anywhere or do anything.

And last but not least, I want to be able to eat what I want without having to be a good role model. I want to be able to eat nothing but a giant hunk of runny, stinky cheese and fresh bread and pears for dinner in front of the TV while watching the Real Housewives of Somewhere. Or should I eat a real beef cheeseburger and deep-fried fries (instead of my usually turkey-quinoa burger and oven baked fries) and use my tshirt to wipe the greasy juicy drips off my face while binge-watching Downton Abby on Netflix like everyone keeps telling me I should?

Maybe I'll do both. Because I can.

For the next three days, I will be commemorating (what should be) Canada's latest & greatest national holiday:

Cayla Day Weekend.

What would you do if you were me?

*One of the lesser-know towns in the south of France that is also one of the most spectacular, culturally rich places I've been to. Go if you can.

**Years later, he would discover that when left alone to shop, I am much more likely to spend hours exploring the local farmers market versus the local mall.